


Oliver's Hat

by jooliewrites



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-24 21:45:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3785371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jooliewrites/pseuds/jooliewrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An older woman, who has got to be Grammy Walsh, approaches them in the foyer. She tilts her head to the side as she sizes Oliver up. “I made that,” she says, pointing to the hat; it’s a statement but her voice lifts a little at the end with question and she turns to her grandson.</p>
<p>“Oh, yeah.” Connor looks at his shoes and coughs. “I—uh—I gave it to Oliver. Grammy, this is Oliver.”</p>
<p>“I figured,” she smirks a little as she says it and Oliver’s struck by how much Connor resembles her. Through the grey fly-aways and laugh lines, her eyes are dancing with the same mischief that Connor’s often contain.  She leans in as if to confide in Oliver but her voice still carries through the room, “It looks much better on you.”</p>
<p>“Thanks Grams,” Connor huffs. </p>
<p>“Oh—you hush,” she swats him lightly on the arm. “You gave away my present. Now, Oliver, it’s very nice to meet you.” She takes one of his hands in both of hers. </p>
<p>+</p>
<p>A ficlet about Oliver's amazing hat from 1x11</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oliver's Hat

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on tumblr.  
> The original tumblr post included some additional headcanons about the hat. If you like, you can check out the post [here.](http://ramblesandreblogs.tumblr.com/post/116679810243/could-you-do-a-fic-about-oliver-having-some-major)   
> Hope you enjoy,  
> -Jules xoxo

The hat is brought along on their first trip to Michigan for Oliver to meet Connor’s family for Thanksgiving. It’s warm for late November in Michigan and he doesn’t really need it but Oliver still dons the hat and his hand is clammy in Connor’s.

“It’s going to be great,” Connor reassures. “They’re gonna love you.”

They walk into a mess of family and noise and conversation and kids running around that quickly fades when everyone sees that “Connor’s boyfriend’s here!” Oliver smiles and gives a little wave and feels utterly ridiculous.

An older woman, who has got to be Grammy Walsh, approaches them in the foyer. She tilts her head to the side as she sizes Oliver up. “I made that,” she says, pointing to the hat; it’s a statement but her voice lifts a little at the end with question and she turns to her grandson.

“Oh, yeah.” Connor looks at his shoes and coughs. “I—uh—I gave it to Oliver. Grammy, this is Oliver.”

“I figured,” she smirks a little as she says it and Oliver’s struck by how much Connor resembles her. Through the grey fly-aways and laugh lines, her eyes are dancing with the same mischief that Connor’s often contain. She leans in as if to confide in Oliver but her voice still carries through the room, “It looks much better on you.”

“Thanks Grams,” Connor huffs.

“Oh—you hush,” she swats him lightly on the arm. “You gave away my present. Now, Oliver, it’s very nice to meet you.” She takes one of his hands in both of hers.

“It’s very nice to meet you too, Mrs. Walsh,” Oliver says.

“No, that won’t do. You come here.” She pulls him in for a hug and kisses his cheek. “There. That’s better.” She pokes him in the chest. “You call me Grammy, got it?” Oliver nods. “Good.”

They stand there in the foyer another beat, with Grammy Walsh smiling at Oliver and her wonderful hat still on his head, before she pipes up again. “We are going to take a picture! You and me and my hat.” She turns to Connor. “Where’s my purse? I need the phone.”

“I don’t—we just got here, Grams,” Connor explains.

“I don’t care. Go find your mother. She took it. I want to take—what was it called?—a selfie! I want to take a selfie with your man, here.”

Connor looks at her dumbfounded, “How do you know what a selfie is?”

“I am very up on things!” She turns to Oliver, “I’m on Facebook, you know?”

Eventually, Connor does his duty as a grandson and tracks down her phone but she swats his hands away when he offers to take the picture. “I know how. Gemma showed me.” She squints at the phone. “Where’s that button?”

A week later, Connor’s mom texts him a picture of his grandmother’s fridge; it’s a wall of family photos dating back to when his dad was in diapers. And there, amid the pictures of his cousin’s spouses and various great-grandchildren, is a picture of the three of them. It’s one of the ones Connor’s mom took with her digital camera after his grandmother gave up on the idea of a selfie because she couldn’t find that button Gemma told her about and refused to let anyone help her.

Connor and Oliver have each thrown an arm around his grandmother wedged between them; she is beaming up at Oliver, who is smiling adoringly down at her, and Connor is grinning like an idiot at the two of them.

_Grammy is showing that picture to everyone_ , his mom’s text reads. _Three visitors today and they’ve all gotten the speech. It goes: ‘that’s my grandson and that’s Oliver and that’s my hat._ ’

The photo is taken down years later, after she passes, and moves to a prominent place on their own fridge, where they have started assembling their own wall of family photos of birthdays and vacations and family parties and the first day of school.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://ramblesandreblogs.tumblr.com/)


End file.
